


Stranded

by peachchild



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachchild/pseuds/peachchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American AU. It's a late August morning, and Colin's car has just run out of gas on the side of Interstate 55. While desperately trying to reach anyone who would be willing to give him a hand (and it's increasingly clear to him that there aren't many), he must come to terms with the things about himself that have isolated him so much and the fact that he drove away the only person he ever wanted to spend his life with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Katie

It’s 11:52 on a hot August morning, and Colin’s car has just run out of gas on the side of I-55. There’s nothing particularly surprising about this; his car has been _put-put-puttering_ along in that telltale way since he passed exit 220. But he thought he would at least be able to reach Bloomington-Normal before it huffed out its last fumes.

The thing about being anywhere in central Illinois is that there’s generally very little cell phone reception to be had – especially if you’re sitting on the hood of your car on the shoulder of the highway with only cornfields and windmill farms on either side, as far as the horizon. Colin manages to get a crackly, far-away signal for just long enough to call some of the few friends he has.

He leaves two voicemails explaining the situation as concisely as he can: “I have no money; I can’t even call a tow truck. Do you think you could come get me? Or bring me some gas? I’ll pay you back, I swear, as soon as I get a paycheck.” That done, he slides his phone back into his pocket, slides off the hood and circles his car. With a click of the key in the lock, he pops the trunk and crawls into it, sitting cross-legged in the shade the open trunk door provides.

It is hot – more than hot. It’s the kind of viscous, heavy heat that feels like a slimy wet _thing_ has taken hold of him and is very tenderly petting his skin, leaving behind a trail of the most abominable goo. The heat wave is expected to break tonight, with the promise of thunderstorms rolling on the horizon, but that doesn’t help him now, and he desperately wishes he had a bottle of water – something to wash away the tacky feeling from the back of his throat. He should have packed something. He should have made sure he had enough gas when he left home to go to Chicago in the first place. He alternately watches the cars breezing past and the taillights on his car blinking a slow, methodical, warning anyone that might see: _Help. Help. I’m broken down. Help me._

No one stops.

~*~

“ _Hey, this is Katie. I can’t answer the phone right now. If you leave a message, I’ll probably call you back. If you don’t, I’ll assume it’s not important. Have a nice day!_ ”

Katie had one coffee mug. It was deep and wide and she drank three cups of coffee out of it each morning. Her pot was set to brew half an hour before she woke, and the first thing she did was fill her mug and swallow it black and bitter, leaning in her robe and flannel pajama pants against the kitchen counter, her red toes wiggling free on the linoleum.

Sufficiently caffeinated, she refilled it and carried it with her into the bathroom, where it sat steaming on the counter while she slicked her hair into smooth sheets that settled easily against the dips and curves of her collarbones and shoulder blades, while she curled her eyelashes into sweeping sooty slopes, brushed black across her eyelids, did her mouth up in red paint. She sipped from it in short increments, distractedly, as if she wasn’t quite aware of its existence, outside of the image of it projected pressing to her lips in the mirror. But when she left the bathroom, it was empty, and she carried it with her.

It sat on her dresser while she dressed, sliding first into dark stockings and then a pencil-thin skirt that matched her lipstick. Her long fingernails didn’t fumble on the buttons of her black blouse or on the buckles of her stilettos. Her shoes didn’t so much click as pound as she walked back into the kitchen, her fingers curled safely through the handle of her mug. She waited to pour her third cup until she made her breakfast – a grapefruit, sliced in half, sprinkled with sugar; a piece of toast with butter spread scrape-thin over it; a glass of orange juice – and she alternated gulps of coffee with sips of juice as she ate, slowly and methodically, the least chaotic part of her.

Colin had bought the mug for her on her 21th birthday. Since he hadn’t been old enough to buy her the customary alcohol, he had gone for the next best beverage-related gift because “One can never have too many mugs, Katie.” He had never found a mug so perfectly suited to someone before. It was white and scrawled with insults from various Shakespearean plays. Colin had found it in the gift shop of the Illinois Shakespeare Festival, and there had been no second thought about buying it.

The perfect white of Katie’s teeth when she had peeled the wrapping paper away from its box cemented his feelings about it. Her laughter as she had read the quotes made him want to kiss her. So he had.

They kissed pretty regularly from then on. Colin usually hauled himself out of her bed in time to have breakfast with her each morning. They exchanged barbs across the table, all based on the insults printed on the mug. If Colin leaned in to kiss her, Katie pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away: “Pray you, stand farther from me.”

“Die a beggar!”

“You lisp and wear strange suits!”

“You should be woman but your beard forbids me to interpret that you are so! Ow!” He rubbed his arm where she hit him.

Katie laughed, her shoulders shaking. “That one isn’t even on the mug.”

“No, I took the liberty of looking it up so I could find an insult appropriate just to _you_.”

“You’re a horrible boyfriend.”

“Yes, well, I’m a horrible lot-of-things.”

“Liar,” Katie cooed, kissing his temple. “You’re perfect.”

***

They met the night Bradley left. Colin still thinks how eerie a coincidence it all was, that she should be at the train station where Colin dropped him off, that she should notice the way his world was falling apart. She couldn’t quite stop the destruction, but she did manage to give him shelter. It almost helped too. She was kind, and patient, and never expected anything in return. That was what Colin loved and resented most about her: her constant smile, her easy touches, the fact that she wanted nothing except for Colin to be happy. He had never had friends like her, in all his life, and never one so devoted so quickly as Katie was.

The only moment of doubt he ever had about her was the moment he kissed her, and she kissed him back. How long had she been waiting for it? How long would she have waited? Would she have hated him if this had never happened? He still isn’t sure; he still doesn’t know if he’ll ever know.

He describes their first night together as love-making, both in his head and on the few occasions he’s taken to talk about it. There is no other way to think of it. Part of him loathes that, because it makes everything else seem so cheap, so unimportant, because Katie was perfect in everything they did, and Katie made him feel special in ways he probably wasn’t.

When he fell into bed with her, it was gently. They had dinner at a small Italian restaurant that Katie loved. Colin liked it for its vegetarian lasagna and the tree that grew strong and steady through its center, spreading its canopy on a second floor reserved for private parties. “I’d like to have my wedding reception here,” Katie commented, sipping her wine. Its red hue was put to shame by the lipstick that stained the glass. “Good food, great wine, and it would have a nature feeling, even though we’d be inside. We wouldn’t have to worry about getting rained out.”

Colin stared at her, watching the sharp angle of her neck as she peered up through the tree branches. “You don’t think we’re going to get married, do you?” Her green eyes shot over in his direction, framed by lashes so dark they looked wet. She didn’t respond, and he shifted slightly in his seat. “Getting married isn’t something I’m interested in, you know. We’ve talked about that before.”

“Yes.” Her voice cut across them. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “I’m aware.” She paused, her throat moving as she swallowed, her eyes dropping. “I was just saying, if I ever got married, the reception would be here. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want to marry _you_.” She cleared her throat, smiled warmly at him. “Well. Shall we get the check? I was think we could walk down and get some ice cream.”

“That sounds perfect.” They paid and he held her hand as they walked along the street. The sidewalks were buzzing with people: gathered outside of bars with their drinks, outside of restaurants with their cigarettes. The night was cool for September; it seemed a little too early in the autumn for jackets. Katie drew Colin’s arm around her bare shoulders, leaning into him in an attempt to warm herself, her heels clattering clumsily along the pavement. He kissed the top of her head.

The ice cream was thoroughly unsatisfying. It tasted good – Colin had chocolate chip cookie dough – but it left the roof of his mouth numb and set his teeth chattering. He was still complaining when they stepped into Katie’s apartment, and almost didn’t notice the gentle tug of her fingers around his, the careful directing of him toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you warmed up then, my love,” she murmured, pressing her mouth to his, her fingers sliding against the buttons on his shirt, slowly parting them.

Colin’s heart rate spiked as she slid the shirt off his shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and he wasn’t sure if the feeling in the back of his throat was excitement or panic. He hadn’t done this since Bradley left – why would he? – and he wasn’t sure where he should even start. His hands seemed to, luckily, know where to begin, and he rested one on her hip, dipping his head to kiss her more firmly, tasting the combination of her tacky lipstick and the smooth sweetness of strawberry ice cream.

Her dress was purple satin and he smoothed his hands over the fabric, brushed his lips against the cut of her jaw and loosened his hold so she could turn away from him. He pushed the sweep of her hair over her shoulder, kissed the nape of her neck, nuzzling into the short dark curls there. His fingers fumbled against the zipper pull, but finding it, he drew the zipper down, let the dress fall open, revealing the smooth pale expanse of her back. He drew in a sharp breath, pressed his fingertips against the spattering of freckles above her right shoulder blade, dipped to mouth at that first sharp knob of her spine.

“Colin.” The word was breathed out, wispy and soft like cobwebs. He hushed her with his mouth against her skin, urging her to release her hold on the front of her dress so that it crumpled around her feet. She stood easily, mostly bare, with her back to him, head tilted forward but shoulders a straight, confident line. He stepped closer, sliding his hands around to rest against the flat of her stomach. Her skin was cool, raised in goose bumps, and he smiled against her shoulder, kissed her there again. She shifted, made a small sound in her throat like a rabbit, and leaned back into him, tipping her head to the side and up so Colin could cup her jaw and kiss her mouth. “Come to bed with me,” she whispered, looking up at him through her eyelashes, her lips brushing against his. “Please?”

He couldn’t deny her, not with her soft body against his, her smile sweet and full. Her quick fingers helped him shed the rest of his clothes – lucky since his hands and mouth were occupied with her neck and ears and breasts and hips. Her body was the carefully-sculpted shape of a vase, full and smooth and un-giving, but oh, so fragile. He felt like a giant touching her, his hands too big, too clumsy; if he squeezed too hard, he could break her. As he closed his hand around her wrist, he imagined the crunch of porcelain, a spider web-thin crack spreading like running water up her arm and through her chest, through slightly parted lips, wide eyes. It was enough to make him falter, and he drew back, kissing her lightly, twining his fingers into the tangled ends of her hair.

Her arms closed around his shoulders, and he felt like a child, pressed to her chest, safe. The tension unwound, slowly, from his back, and Katie followed that lead, sliding her hand down his chest and over to his own where it laid against her hip. She moved it slowly to place it between her legs, and he didn’t think too much for a while after that.

She slept when they were finished, on her stomach with her arms folded under her, her face toward his. He watched her, pushed the damp hair off her face. Saying that she was beautiful seemed a gross understatement, and he refused to do it. He was fairly certain that he was pressing his luck having her in his life as it was, and insulting her in such a phenomenal way as to call her _beautiful_ seemed a sure way to lose it all in a snap.

So instead, he woke her up with soft kisses to her mouth, his fingers trailing over the soft wings of her shoulder blades, and glowed with the satisfaction of making her smile.

***

Katie’s apartment often smelled like oil paint. This makes sense considering the fact that she stored her supplies in various drawers and cabinets and closets around her small living room. Sometimes, her paints and brushes spilled out onto the carpet, haphazardly giving the impression of a cluttered, busy artist at work, too occupied with other things to care much for the upkeep of her living space. Colin figured no one fit the stereotype less than she did, though, with her high fashion clothing and predilection for Hollywood romantic comedies, especially if the latter featured tall blonde heroines with successful careers and lacking social skills, all of which were usually put to rest by the appearance of an even taller dark-haired man with a dimple in one cheek.

He sometimes found her hunched over on the carpet, her legs folded and her feet bare, the shirt – Colin’s – she wore sliding off her shoulder, revealing an expanse of bare skin often smeared with boldly-colored fingerprints where she absently tried to pull the shirt up again. Her hair was piled onto her head and knotted there, leaning to the left like a satin Tower of Pisa. Her black-framed glasses sat heavy on the end of her nose but she didn’t seem to notice that she needed to push them up.

At times like these, she didn’t paint. Her giant sketchbook was balanced on her knee, and she held it in place with one hand on its spine. Her other hand worked quickly, sketching in thick black lines the face of some person she saw that day, a face she couldn’t get out from behind her eyes.

(Often, this process ended in her tears. She curled up on the couch with her head against Colin’s collarbone and cried. “I can’t get it right.” Her voice always sounded far-away, like she was apologizing over a phone call from far, far away. “No matter what I do, I can’t get it right.” Colin just held her, because nothing could make her feel better about it, not until she was ready to. Telling her that she did her best usually ended with a slammed door and a loud lock.)

The best pieces were unceremoniously ripped from the book and pinned to the wall in her bedroom, private things for her to enjoy. Colin liked having enough importance in her life that he was allowed to see them. Lying in her bed with her body tucked up against his side, asleep, he just liked to _look_ at them, these images that Katie shone out from, through sharply-cut faces, smudged and faded in places from careless handling or dying pens. He never told her quite how much he liked them; he wasn’t sure how.

When a sketch satisfied her, Colin was rewarded for it. She hauled him to the couch for long kisses with a playful tongue, her fingertips pressed to his jaw and neck, stained with dark ink, staining him too, marking him with the soft grooves of her fingerprints.

His hands curled around her hips, and she settled across his lap. The sharp, crisp scents of ink and paper – like basil or pita bread – draped over him like cloth against his face. She always seemed to smell like this, like a museum or a library. It never suited her well; her presence in any room was far too loud. Even loud was the wrong word; it was like a constant murmur followed her, like the world was talking about her whenever she passed. It made Colin feel silent by comparison. It made him feel like he was going to be left behind again.

Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and the breath she expelled was reverent, but light, like a children’s game of hide-and-seek inside a church. “I can hear you thinking,” she commented easily, mouthing at his jaw. Her fingers worked open his belt, slid into his jeans. “Let’s make your brain quiet for a while, hm?”

She was good at that – distracting him – and he was good at letting her. He knew it meant that they never talked about anything important. He knew that it led to her frustration – dishes crashing into the sink at the end of breakfasts, leaving the apartment barefoot to get away from him – because she was just so _open_ , so good at all this, and she couldn’t seem to pry _him_ open, no matter how much leverage she had – but he allowed it anyway because there was less chance of spreading himself out for her to examine, to take what she liked and to leave the rest.

When Katie padded away into the kitchen wearing nothing but a sated smile and Colin’s button-up shirt, to wash her hands and order Chinese, he pulled up his jeans, fumbled the button closed on them and went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

They sat side-by-side on the floor with their backs against the couch, their legs crossed at the ankles, and ate fried rice out of the cartons with plastic forks. _Jersey Shore_ played almost absently before them, and Colin watched the soft blue glow from the television screen skip across Katie’s toes. Neither of them mentioned the state of Colin’s skin, rubbed raw, clean of fingerprints.

***

The second week of November saw the first Illinois snowfall of the season. The campus was stacked with it – but for the sidewalks which were plowed each morning by men in dark parkas, scarves tucked up over their mouths and noses like gas masks. No one salted the stairs into the buildings, though, so there was a comical vision of students struggling, clinging to the handrails with gloved fingers that made them slide. One girl resorted to half-crawling to the door, until someone standing smoking at the top grasped her hand and hauled her up.

Colin was already weary of cold. It was an unfortunate feeling, considering he lived in the Midwest, known for its hot summers and long winters. He could expect snow until early May. Last year, the snow fell on May 7th, and Bradley ran through his parents’ garden in a t-shirt and jeans and Colin took the picture and taped it to his wall. (He pretends to this day that it wasn’t still there, squashed between poems and articles and other photographs.) He prayed now that spring would come early, the groundhog would venture out on the second of February. But for now, he curled into his pea coat and hunched his shoulders against the central Illinois wind, which cut unstopping across the prairies and sliced against his skin.

He hadn’t seen Katie in a week. She had been up to her ears in paint, desperately trying to finish projects and finals before Thanksgiving break, when the studios would be closed, and before finals week, when she had two art history exams to study for. Colin hadn’t exactly been slacking off either. Between writing five English course final papers, acting as principle photographer for the Daily Vidette and working 20 hours a week in the dining hall, he barely had time to eat or sleep, never mind spend time with his girlfriend. He felt a little like he was suffocating under the weight of it all, and the thin winter air wasn’t helping. He stored an emergency inhaler in his jacket pocket at all times, just in case.

Tonight was Thursday, and he had just finished his last essay and delivered it neatly into the mailbox of his English Literature professor. He was now trudging through the parking lot toward Katie’s apartment with take-out from Noodles & Co. He knew that she would probably push him out the door once the food was suitably delivered, threatening him with paint brushes, and that was fine, considering all he wanted right now was his bed and a cup of hot cocoa, maybe DVDs of _The Office_ to fall asleep to.

He climbed the stairs to her third-story apartment, fished the spare key – to which Katie had attached a keychain in the shape of a pear – from his pocket, and let himself in with a heavy push of his shoulder against the faulty door. Angel was sitting on the floor with her legs folded under her. She was a pretty girl, with skin the color of chai tea and freckles across her nose. She had a tendency to smile with only half of her mouth and wore cargo pants and worn-out sneakers most days. Colin knew her mostly through Katie and never quite knew how to talk to her.

He gave her a short wave. “Hey. How’re your classes going?”

“Oh, fine. Katie and I are doing a collaboration for abstract painting. It’s our last project, so we’re feeling pretty satisfied,” she laughed softly, a nervous little titter that didn’t suit her. “Katie’s in the kitchen. I think she’s making food; she probably wasn’t expecting you around with takeout.”

Colin toed off his shoes, shrugging, and hung his messenger bag on the coat rack. “Well, Noodles heats up pretty well, so we can always eat it later.” He padded across the carpet, avoiding strewn canvases and open paint bottles to slip his way into the kitchen. Katie stood at the counter with her back to him, pouring glasses of rich red wine into two long-stemmed glasses. “Hey.”

She jumped, splashed wine, plum-colored, onto her white countertop, turned to look at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. “Colin. I didn’t know you’d be around tonight.”

“I was just going to drop off food for you,” he explained, lifting the plastic bag to emphasize this. “I got finished earlier than I expected. Angel said you’re cooking though.”

“Oh, no.” She wiped her hands, unnecessarily, absently, on a dishcloth. “Just popcorn and wine. Good food for creating. Kind of like how you drink orange juice when you’re writing.” She turned from him again, stood on her toes to reach for the box of popcorn at the top of the cabinet.

Colin put the food in the fridge, listened for the telltale click of the microwave door and the firm _beep_ of its buttons being pressed. “How are your finals coming along?”

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said, from where she faced the microwave, watching the bag of popcorn unfold itself as it spun. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Oh?” He leaned back against the edge of the table, and they both knew he wasn’t going to engage until she turned to look at him. She did. Her eye make-up was smudged, and he wondered how fresh it was, if she had even bothered with it this morning or if it was the remains of yesterday’s. He knew she sometimes fell asleep on her couch, still dressed, face unwashed, especially at these busy times. “What did you want to talk to me about?” He knew. They both knew.

Her sigh was weary and said more than words could. “I didn’t want to do it like this.”

“And how did you want to do it?” he cut out, looking out toward the window. There was a streetlamp across the road and, in its orange glow, the snow was falling again. His thoughts turned to Bradley and he felt far away. The popcorn snapped. “Were you going to call me? Send me an email? Or just never bother talking to me again?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said sharply, her soft regret quickening to anger. “You’re important to me, Colin; you always have been. Of course I wanted to see you so I could do it right.”

“You’re dumping me.” The words sounded ridiculous said out loud. “I don’t know what you think is going to change by you doing it in person.”

“I just wanted to show your feelings some respect.” The popcorn bowl slammed against the counter; the cupboard it had been in slammed shut. “God knows one of us has to be able to do that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re _distant_ , Colin. You always have been. No matter what the situation is, being with you is like holding a cat that keeps trying to jump out of your arms and run away. And trust me, Colin; I knew I was your rebound. I knew that. I wasn’t under the impression that you chose me for much more than that I was available and you’d just had your heart broken. But I thought, maybe, you would heal and we could really be together, like a real couple. Now I know that isn’t going to happen.”

Colin was silent, his eyes drawn to the soft orange glow of the microwave door. “So how long have you been planning this?”

Her shoulders curved in, and he didn’t think she’d ever looked so small. She still wore one of his shirts. “It wasn’t a plan. I just knew the end was coming.” She lifted her eyes to his. He knew that if he said the right thing now, she might change her mind and let him stay. “It’s not that I don’t love you. I do love you.”

He considered saying it back. That would be the best course of action to take. When his mouth did open, all he could say was, “The popcorn’s burning.”

He left when she started to cry.

~*~

He has been sitting in the trunk of his car for three hours. The sun brands its fire on the nape of his neck, liquefying along his hairline, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead and top lip. The cars have slowed to a crawl beside him, hindered by heavy interstate traffic and the construction that always blooms on Illinois highways in the summertime to repair the damage caused by harsh winters.

He wonders sluggishly, his thoughts oozing like syrup, why none of these cars have stopped to offer him assistance. He wonders why none of the four state police cars patrolling the road have paused to ask if he’s alright. More, he wonders why his phone lays silent beside him. He’s sent out a mass text now, to the few people he knows, and has tried again to reach Katie and Eoin, the only people he’s ever been close enough to – with the exception of Bradley, but Bradley isn’t an option – to hope they would drive 65 miles to help him. So far, he isn’t sure if he should expect anyone.

Shifting his weight onto one leg, he draws his wallet from his pocket. He knows there’s no more than ten dollars on his debit card. He only has twenty dollars in cash. Not enough to pay a taxi or a tow truck – not by any stretch of his imagination. According to a luminescent green sign probably 700 feet in front of him, he’s five miles from the next town. He could walk, he supposes. Find a gas station. Fill a gas can, buy some water. It wouldn’t be impossible.

Reconciled to the fact that he needs to do something, he slides out of the car, turns to close the trunk, and locks it with a sharp click. Then he promptly bends double and vomits on the grass, his hand braced against the car. He gasps, coughs, his knees buckling a little, clings to the vehicle in an attempt to stay upright. And just like that, any plans to move are void. All he can do is wait for help.


	2. Eoin

_“Hey, kids. You’ve reached the phone of Eoin Macken, but not Eoin himself as he is clearly busy doing things more interesting than answering his phone. Leave a message or don’t; chances of me calling you back are pretty slim either way.”_

Japanese beer was possibly the worst thing Colin had ever tasted. He wasn’t even sure why Eoin had it; it’s not exactly a country known for its fantastic beers or anything. “I got it at Mitsuwa,” he explained proudly, his grin a flash of white teeth and deep dimples. He always grinned like he was your good friend and like the two of you had a deep inside joke that no one else knew about or would understand if they did, even if you’d never met him before.

Colin still found it disconcerting, and he’d known him since they lived in neighboring dorm rooms their freshman year. He knew Eoin would be nothing but trouble for him from the moment when he wrote LET’S C UR TITS on Colin’s window in permanent marker while drunk in their third week. Bradley, Eoin’s roommate at the time, had tried to help Colin scrub it off, but they didn’t manage it before the RA saw it. He wasn’t sure which the worse outcome was: the $200 vandalism fee or the fact that every girl in the dorm thought he was a misogynistic scumbag.

It wasn’t until Colin started dating Bradley that they became friends, out of necessity more than anything, but now he was grateful for him – even with his crappy beer. “I don’t know, man; it’s not that bad.”

Colin winced, knocked the heels of his running shoes against the wall. They were sitting on the roof of Eoin’s house, which he shared with three other guys. They were in a punk band together, The Night Brigade. Colin thought the name was stupid, and that it suited them, since they weren’t particularly good. He did appreciate Eoin’s voice though, the way he sounded against the microphone, gravelly and low and intense, like he was filling the room with smoke; Colin could practically see it rising around their feet. The long nights spent in hot basements were well worth it. “It probably helps that you’re using it as a chaser for your vodka,” he pointed out. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk; you’re drunk!” Eoin clapped him on the back, and Colin grabbed tight to the edge of the roof, the meat of his palms scraping against the shingles. “You’ve had three cans of the stuff.”

“And it still tastes like crappy beer. Why did you spend money on this? Just because it’s Japanese?”

Eoin gave him a very dry look, lips pressed tight together. “You have no sense of adventure, my friend.”

Colin wanted to ask what was adventurous, exactly, about doing the same thing they did every Thursday night. He wanted to know why Eoin never wanted to do anything more, anything better, with his time. “Unfortunately, it appears you’re right. I’ll stick to my crappy American beer.”

“Ah, such a frat boy, with your PBR.”

“That’s me; I’m the epitome of frat boy.”

Eoin laughed, a rich sound, like German chocolate cake. He squeezed Colin’s thigh. “Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“No, too long a drive. You?”

“Nah. Hippy parents. They’d spend the whole day griping about freedom and the lack thereof and the Patriot Act and how we mistreat Native Americans. All important things of course, but I really just want some turkey and stuffing and peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet?” Skepticism dripped from Colin’s voice.

“Okay, no, we’re going to have a party. You should come.” Eoin grinned at him. “It’ll help you get your mind off of what’s-her-face dumping you.”

He grimaced, peered over the edge of the roof to see Tom taking out the trash. He always slammed the lids, and usually the sound sent the raccoons scurrying. Sure enough, off they went, bounding off through the backyard toward the line of trees that lined the neighbor’s house. “Katie, you mean.”

“Yeah, that’s her name. Katie.” He took a long draft of his beer, squinting up at the sky. “Talked to her at all?”

“Yeah, briefly. Exchanged emails. She wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Well, that’s kind of rubbing it in, isn’t it?”

“Her heart was in the right place.” Colin shrugged, reeled his arm back and threw his empty can toward the recycling bin they left standing out beside their garbage cans. He missed. “She’s a nice person, all-in-all.”

“And she’s stupid. Because she’s missing out on a great guy.”

He snorted, grinning over at him. “Do you really think that?”

“Sure. Don’t you?”

He pushed himself back from the edge of the roof, shrugging, and very carefully stood up, holding his arms out for balance. “We should go down to Merry-Ann’s and have omelets. The waitress who works Tuesdays and Thursdays always gives me free chocolate milk.”

“You’re like a little kid.” Eoin hopped to his feet and ran to the window, sliding back into his room and holding out his hand to help Colin in after him. “But I can always go for an omelet. Best drunk food ever.”

“I’m partial to pancakes.”

“Of course you are. You live to be contrary.”

“Contrary. Big word, bro.”

“Not really, ‘bro.’”

Eoin pulled his wallet off his desk and into his hand. His room was as bizarre a place as his mind seemed to be: walls plastered with posters for movies like The Hangover and The Boondock Saints, shelves and desk space stacked with Shakespeare and Tolstoy and Faulkner. Colin had no doubt that somewhere inside of him, beyond all the bravado and apathy, there was an intelligent, passionate person. Part of his charm, unfortunately, was that one couldn’t tell that by looking at him – or talking to him, in some cases.

The air was sticky when they stepped out onto the street. They were about a mile from Merry-Ann’s, which was across the street from their campus. Colin had spent many long nights in the little diner, watching Bradley and Eoin shovel the all-you-can-eat, twenty-four-hour breakfast into their mouths. Colin usually stuck to a veggie omelet and coffee, happy to listen to them joke around and tease each other. He preferred to be quiet sometimes, and the firm kisses Bradley tended to give him after those moments, on the walks home or once they were safely inside their shared apartment, made it well worth it.

Eoin punched his arm. “You’re far away, man.”

“Sorry. Beer makes me thoughtful; you know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he agreed mock-solemnly, then threw his arms around Colin’s shoulders . “But it’s okay. I love you anyway.”

***

The basement was particularly loud tonight. It wasn’t exactly that Colin hadn’t expected it; the house was generally rather loud. Four guys lived there, and there were always people around, moving instruments, playing demos, rehearsing for the shows they hosted every weekend. This show was a celebration of freedom, and everyone was wearing red, white and blue. He figured it was the most patriotic punk show to ever happen, but he wasn’t complaining. There was beer and whiskey, decent music and a very pleasant breeze.

He had been in the basement for a while, but the air was too close, the people too close, and his face was warm, his t-shirt sticking to his back. So he sat on the deck stairs, drinking vodka and lemonade out of a water bottle, watching the people, tattooed and inked, wander in and out of the house, sharing smokes leaning against the wall; he thought about scolding them into not stubbing out their butts against the siding, but he figured it wasn’t his house and he wouldn’t have to pay for it, so it was none of his business.

Eoin burst out of the door, his shaggy hair sticking to his forehead. These were probably the only nights Colin knew him not to drink. He said he couldn’t sing when he was drunk, and they all knew he couldn’t play guitar when he was; there was only one instance in which his fingers fumbled too much for him to press the strings into the correct chords. He still had that sort of dazed, elated smile he always did when he was drunk though, like the world could do nothing but open up before him and expose all its riches.

He dropped onto the step next to him, kicking his leg out and resting back on his hands. He shook his hair out of his face, panting. “I wish you’d been down there, man. We just had the best pit.”

“You know I never go in the pits,” Colin smiled over at him, not bothering to resist the urge to smooth down his hair. It wasn’t like they weren’t terribly affectionate with each other anyway. Most people assumed they were an item, at least in some capacity. Colin figured that Eoin would always have that problem; people would report to him all the time that they thought Bradley was cheating on him with his ridiculous friend. “I’m too small; they just demolish me.”

“But you have the height advantage! All these little punk kids are like, 5’7”; you could take them so easily.”

“Even so, I much prefer to just listen from a safe distance. I could hear just fine out here, since you actually opened the basement windows this time.”

Eoin shook his head, sighing softly. “You’re such a frustration for me, Colin. You spend all this time doing exactly the opposite of what I want you to do.”

“Oh, do I?” Colin lifted his eyebrows at him very pointedly, taking a long drink out of his bottle. “What kinds of things do I not do that you want me to do?”

Eoin rolled his eyes, grabbing his face and dragging him in to plant a wet kiss on his forehead. “You’re such a little tease, Colin. Who knows how I even put up with you? Do you want to come down for the next set? I’ll stand in the back with you – and I won’t even tease you when you dodge out of the way of the pit.”

Colin drained his water bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin they set in a prominent position next to the garage, in the hopes that more people would throw their bottles and cans in there instead of the garbage can. Colin knew some people would do the latter anyway; he also knew that Eoin would take the time to fish them out for recycling before garbage day. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

He allowed himself to be dragged down to the basement, and he leaned against the wall, and partially against Eoin. He was suitably drunk, and he appreciated that with how hot it was in the room; he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it if he was sober. As it was, the music was almost too loud to hear. It hit his ears like nothing but noise, like a wave washing over his head on a windy day at the beach.

It was going on midnight when Eoin pulled him back up the stairs, and he slung his arm around his shoulders, leading him to his car. “You’re not walking home alone.”

Colin batted at him, trying to shake him off. “I don’t need a knight-in-shining-armor to make sure I don’t get kidnapped or taken advantage of.”

“Yes, yes, of course you don’t. But all the same, I’m going to drive you home.” Eoin squeezed his arm, kissed his temple.

“Maybe you just want to take advantage of me,” Colin accused, rapping his knuckles against his chest. “I know your ways!”

“Yes, yes, of course you do.” Eoin opened the passenger side door of his Camry and pushed and prodded him into it, then trotted around to slide into the driver’s seat. He leaned over to pull Colin’s seatbelt across him, buckling it, and Colin grabbed his shirt, reeling him in to press their mouths together.

Eoin pushed him back against the seat, chuckling. “Now’s not the time, babe.”

“Why not?’” Colin held tight to him. “When’s the time? We’ve been dancing around it for weeks. Why haven’t we already done it?”

“You’re my best friend’s ex, Colin.”

“He’s gone,” he spat out. “He went away. What does it matter anymore? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dated the exes – and sometimes currents – of every friend you’ve had. Why is it so different if it’s Bradley?”

“It’s not.” Eoin shrugged. “Not really – especially since he’s been gone for so long. It’s not like he’s clambering to come back for you, right?”

Colin ignored how much that ripped him open and instead just reeled him in to kiss him again. “Right. Right. So let’s do this. We should do this.”

Eoin sighed and clicked the button to unbuckle Colin’s seatbelt, then crawled over the center console into the backseat. Colin tripped after him, seating himself in his lap and taking his face between his hands, pulling him up to kiss him again. The kiss was messy and loud, and Eoin’s mouth tasted like menthol cigarettes – bitter but hinting at sweetness – and spearmint gum. He slid his hand down and pressed the heel against the crotch of his jeans, smiling at the way Eoin groaned and bucked up a little into it.

“’m gonna suck you off,” he announced, sliding off onto the seat beside him and working open his pants.

“Mmm, by all means.” Eoin rested his hand on the back of his neck, letting his head tip back against the seat as Colin did just that, messily, slurping and licking and sucking as if he’d never done it before. He didn’t know exactly why he needed this, or why he was doing it, and it felt sort of like suffocating, like falling off the back of a pickup truck on a dirt road just to lose himself in the dust. But it was also terribly satisfying, knowing that he was the one causing Eoin to feel like this, to make him come down his throat and tug his hair until he pulled off and he could drag him up to push their mouths together. It made him feel tall and strong and real to have Eoin draw him out of his pants and jerk him off, roughly, until he spilled over his hand with a little cry. It made him feel secure, to have Eoin drive him home and stay there with him, sprawled out beside him on the bed, as if he was perfectly comfortable beside him.

When he woke up the next morning, his head pounded like a drum, and he crawled out of the bed, stumbled to the kitchen and started to make toast. Usually, with a hangover this bad, he used the entire loaf, stuffing the crisp bread into his mouth until his stomach was distended with it. Today, he had to settle for half, since he forgot to buy bread the week before, and Eoin was padding out of the bedroom, shirtless, and stretching.

He grinned at Colin. “Good morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

Colin grumbled at him, pouring them each a glass of orange juice and setting them out on the table, along with two plates of buttered toast. “You know better than to let me drink that much.”

“Hey, it is completely not my fault that you drank two twenty-four-ounce water bottles full of a vodka mixed drink.” He snatched up a piece of toast. “And you’re completely obstinate about it when anyone tells you to watch how much you drink. It’s like you have to prove just how grown-up you are.”

He waved him off, nibbling off the corners of his bread. “Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t know if he should feel awkward about this, about sitting here the morning after they fooled around in the backseat of Eoin’s car, eating breakfast with him like they were a couple. Maybe in some small way, they were. “Sorry about last night anyway.”

“Are you kidding? We should do it again sometime.” He grinned at him, pushed the side of his head. “Don’t ever apologize for giving me a blowjob, Col. It is simply ridiculous.”

Colin rolled his eyes and nudged his knee with his bare foot, but inside, he agreed.

***

He didn’t really like parties very much. There was something about them that left him feeling uneasy, uncomfortable, like his skin didn’t fit right, or someone was tugging on it, shifting it, skewing it off-center so that he couldn’t get comfortable without stripping out of it. He tried his very best to do that by having drink after drink. He knew that he’d more than drunk the five dollars worth of beer he’d bought with his cup at the door; he knew it well enough that he kept trying to ply the host of the party with money, apologizing in a slur about having so much that nobody else was getting any from the keg.

Eoin eventually dragged Colin off to a corner of the room and placed him in the corner of the couch, telling him laughingly to “Stay, before you get into any more trouble.” Colin did, for a while at least, until a couple joined him on the sofa and made a point of getting rather comfortable with each other there; the sounds of kissing made him dizzy, so he pushed himself up off the couch and stumbled his way toward the door, pushing his way through the throngs of people and the booming music, each step jogging his vision like an earthquake through his skull.

He burst through the door, out into the cool air. It was early March, and spring was just around the corner, but the last dregs of winter were clinging to the nights, making his breath fog up in front of him. He managed his way down the porch steps, and he could feel it in his stomach, the creeping feeling up the back of his throat, and he threw up in the garden. Vaguely, he wondered which of the fraternity brothers kept the magnolia beds so neat and free of weeds. It was enough to make him want to cry, that he was just sick all over the flowers, which were colorful even now, lit just by the light pouring out from the windows of the house.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, stared at it for a long time before figuring out which buttons would be best to push. Eoin was number two on his speed dial. Number one was his brother, but his brother couldn’t help him get home right now, and Eoin was just inside and he could walk him the three blocks to his apartment and get the key in the lock for him. The ringing in his ears was different than the ringing down the phone line, and it went to voicemail instead of to Eoin. He groaned, plopped down into the grass and tried to type out a text message to him instead. He wasn’t sure if the words were legible, but at least he would know he was trying to get a hold of him.

His eyes were closed, and he was starting to doze off, sitting there on the lawn in the dark, with his legs crisscrossed under him, and his chin drooping onto his chest, when his phone beeped with a new message. Can’t come help you now, mate. Just left with Will. Been trying to hook up with him for weeks, you know. ;) I’ll be by tomorrow with hangover food and details!

Colin stared at the words for a long time, but they never actually made sense to him. All he could seem to take from them was that Eoin wasn’t coming, and he had no one to make sure he got home alright. But that wasn’t surprising, not really. He had never had many friends, and it wouldn’t be the first time he walked home drunk in the dark by himself. Carefully, he unfolded his legs and hauled himself to his feet, stumbling once before he managed to get himself completely upright. He walked slowly, focusing on putting one of his feet in front of the other, only to get distracted by how dirty his shoes were and to stumble.

He caught himself before he fell, and he paused at the corner of the street, looking both ways for oncoming cars. There were none. The street was empty. Colin sighed and walked all the way home alone. When he let himself into the apartment, it was dark, and for the first time in a long time, he let the soft desolation of aloneness set in.

He fell asleep feeling stung and woke up to the face of the person who’d stung him, holding out toast and orange juice for him, a huge grin on his face. “I have never seen you that drunk ever,” he says rather gleefully, dropping his hands in his lap once Colin has accepted the food from him. “Honestly. It’s also the most social I’ve ever seen you. I’m pretty sure you talked to every single person in the room. Mostly, you were apologizing for how drunk you were and you thanked the host of the party for inviting you – even though he didn’t; he invited me – and once you told a girl that she had pretty hair and her boyfriend was lucky that she would spend time with him.”

“Yes, yes, I do remember the night, believe it or not,” he grumbled, sliding the plate and glass over onto his nightstand and pushing himself up. He rubbed his hands over his face, studying Eoin through his fingers. He was smiling easily, and he had all the satisfaction of the well-fucked. He knew who Will was. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and had the kind of grin that made boys and girls alike fall at his feet. Colin always felt incredibly uncomfortable in his presence, like he was being sized-up and found wanting. He was just the kind of person Eoin appreciated though: easygoing, confident, just this side of devious. They were perfect for each other. “So I take it you had a nice evening.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Col.” Eoin ruffled his hair. “It was just a bit of fun. We didn’t even do the deed, so to speak. We just went down on each other. You and I have done that much.”

“That’s more information than I needed, thanks.” Colin slid out of the bed. His head hurt and his stomach lurched. He needed more toast. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before; he had apparently only managed to toe off one of his shoes as well. “At any rate, I’m happy that it was a good night for you. Remind me not to go to parties with you anymore when you’re just going to ditch me.”

“Oh, don’t act like such a girl, Colin.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we were there on a date or something. We just happened to go together.”

“You invited me. I didn’t know anyone else. I kind of thought you’d look out for me.”

He lifted his hands in defense. “If you’re too hung-over to hang out with me, I can take off. Just call me when you’re in a better mood.”

Colin glared after him as he left the apartment, wondering if he’d care to know he didn’t plan to call at all.

***

He did end up calling him, three days later, after spending the rest of the weekend and the first two days of the week pretending he didn’t have class and didn’t have homework and only had to worry about this perplexing situation with his friend. He padded around his apartment barefoot, until he caught his big toe on a tack on the floor, at which point, angry, he decided he needed to vacuum, but of course, before he could vacuum he had to dust. So he cleaned, furiously, thoroughly, until every surface in the apartment seemed to radiate with disinfectant, and then he realized he was still angry and it had nothing at all to do with the apartment needing to be clean.

So he called Eoin. He called him and told him he wanted to see him, and Eoin, who seemed to feel as though all the water was under the bridge about the whole thing, because that was how Eoin was, said that he had class this afternoon, but he could come over and have pizza with him and his roommates tonight. Colin agreed immediately.

His house was kind of like a warzone all the time. At night, it was just bizarre enough to appear exotic, and it was therefore the perfect staging platform for shows and parties and the odd people who came to them. In the daytime though, it was just a rundown little ranch house that housed four liberal arts majors who happened to play instruments, rather poorly, and sometimes did so too loudly during the afternoon. The grass was brown and the once-white siding was now grey from dirt and dust and cigarette smoke and ash. A window was broken out front from a drunken brawl that happened months ago, caused by a thrown shoe that missed its target by a long shot. The window had been replaced by a board since then.

Colin let himself in, and as he wandered through the kitchen, Tom waved at him with the wooden spoon he was using to fry tofu on the stove. “He’s in his room getting ready to go out somewhere tonight; I think there’s a lecture or something one of his professors is requiring him to go to, and there’s a dress code for it, and if he doesn’t adhere to it, he doesn’t get credit for going.”

“Ah, I see.” Colin nodded. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise to know that Eoin was getting ready to go to a school function. At times, he was sure that he didn’t know a better student than his strange friend with his strange habits. “Thanks.” He took the stairs two at a time, rapping once with his knuckles to warn him before pushing the door open.

Eoin was in the little en suite, his face lathered with shaving cream, and he was very carefully dragging a safety razor over his skin. Colin edged past him into the little room and perched on the closed toilet. “Hello, dear.” Eoin grinned at his reflection in the mirror. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Are you done sulking now?”

Colin winced. He knew that he hadn’t really acted as maturely as he could have, concerning the party, but he also knew he wasn’t completely in the wrong with what he said. He gave him a little sheepish smile. “Yes, I am, sorry. But while I was… sulking, I came to a conclusion about this thing that we’ve been doing.”

“Don’t tell me you want to stop hooking up?” Eoin twisted his mouth up, carefully working his razor around the corner of it. Colin hadn’t seen him clean-shaven for months. This event he was attending had to be fairly important, if his friend was going to this much trouble for it. “Because honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have ditched you, so I’m sorry about that, but don’t feel like we need to stop having sex just because of that.”

“No, no, that’s not really – I mean, it’s about that, but that’s not really what I want to say about it.” He took a deep breath. There was nothing more frustrating than not knowing exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it. He prided himself on being well-spoken, and when his tongue felt this swollen and useless, he wanted to jump out a window or burrow under the ground somewhere, until he could fix it, could make it all more comfortable for himself. “I just – I like you, Eoin. You’ve been a good friend to me for a long time, especially after Bradley and even after Katie, and I know you didn’t have to stick by me like you have.”

“Dude, don’t mention it,” Eoin said easily, not looking at him. “You don’t have to get all sappy about it. You’re my friend; of course I’m going to look after you. Especially when you’re pretending that everything’s okay and you don’t have any problems or anything. Like, you’re completely not fooling me with that stuff, I hope you know.”

“I do,” Colin laughed softly, toying with his fingers in his lap. He pressed his hands together between his knees. “I do know that, and thank you for noticing that stuff. The thing is, you probably know me better than anyone, and I don’t think I like anyone like I like you, and – I just think we should make this official.” He took a deep breath and plowed on. “We’re pretty much best friends and we’re sleeping together anyway, so why not just take the leap and be together? Be in a relationship with each other? So I guess I’m kind of asking if you want to be my boyfriend. What do you think?”

Eoin was quiet for a long time, focused on shaving. Colin waited patiently until he was done. He waited even until he bent to splash water on his face to rinse off the extra shaving cream, and then patted aftershave on his cheeks and chin. He finally turned to look at him. “To be honest, Colin, I’m really not looking for a relationship right now. I mean, if I were to be in a relationship with anyone, it would be you for sure. There’s no one I care about or am more attached to than you. And you are my best friend. You really are. But I don’t want to ruin that by trying to date, you know?”

Colin’s throat closed. “You think trying to date would be worse for our friendship than having sex three times a week?”

“Sex is so easy, you know? So uncomplicated. No one expects anything except the sex.” Eoin’s chin was bleeding, where he wasn’t quite as careful with his razor. He didn’t seem to notice. “When the relationship expectations get involved, it’s so much harder; there’s so much more on your shoulders to make everything work.” He smiled gently. “I’m flattered, though, Colin, seriously. I know you don’t do things like this lightly.”

Colin didn’t say anything; he just smiled back and watched the blood drip down his neck.


	3. Bradley

It’s been four hours, and all Colin has to be grateful for is the fact that the hottest part of the day is over. He’s thrown up twice, and he doesn’t know why – just that he feels sick with the heat, and exhausted. He’s not sure what he’s going to do. He could call 911, he supposes, but the police will only call a tow truck he can’t afford to pay, and then what will he do? Even if they bill him later, where will he come up with the ninety dollars that it will no doubt take to pay them?

Still, no one has stopped – not a single state trooper, not a single concerned passing driver. He wonders what he would do, if he saw someone stranded on the side of the road: would he stop to help them? He doesn’t know. He thinks he probably wouldn’t. He’s heard too many horror stories about good Samaritans who were hijacked or kidnapped because they stopped to help someone on the side of the interstate. He doesn’t want to be one of them. Still, he hopes that if it did happen, he would at least call the police, do _something_ to let someone know that there was a car out on the road with a driver that needed help.

It occurs to him that he hears gravel crunching, and he lifts his head from where he’s let it rest on his arm, where he’s curled on his side in the trunk. A car has pulled up behind his own and has cut the engine, and he thinks, _finally_ , someone is here to help him, to get him out of this bad situation. He sits up fully, rubbing his hands through his hair, swallowing. His throat is so dry. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk, and to explain the situation.

But - _oh_. He stares. That’s all he can do because – “What are you doing here?” he asks quietly, sliding out of the trunk.

Bradley pushes his keys into his pocket, approaching him slowly, like he’s an animal that’s going to bolt. “I’m here to help.” He holds his arms out demonstratively, a nervous smile on his face. “I brought you a gallon of gas.”

Colin can’t help but just _look_ at him. It’s been a year since he last saw him, and the year’s been good to him. He’s as fit as ever, and Colin’s sure he still plays soccer, up with his new friends at law school. His hair is blonder than he remembers, but summertime has just passed, and Bradley has always liked to spend time outdoors. “You drove three hours to help me?”

“Well, two and a half, since you didn’t _quite_ make it to Bloomington.” Bradley grins, and it’s like nothing’s changed. Nothing has happened in the last year to come between them. “Anyway, do you want me to fill your tank for you so you can get going?”

“I – yes, please,” Colin says quietly, sitting back down on the edge of the trunk, a little dazed, while Bradley retrieves the can from the backseat of his Hyundai.

He hands Colin a bottle of water as he passes him to open the tank. “You look like you could use this.”

He thanks him, twists it open and drinks it greedily, not caring about the noisy crackling as the plastic collapses. He doesn’t stop until it’s empty, and he sits panting for a long time, enjoying the sensation of being _hydrated_. He turns to watch Bradley, frowning. “How did you know I was out here?”

“Well, Katie _and_ Eoin called asking if I would be willing to come down and help you, even though it was so far away. They were busy, apparently.”

Colin wants to be surprised by that. He would really prefer to have not been told that altogether, but he supposes he asked. The only two people in the world he thought he was close enough to that they might come and help him all but abandoned him. And he’s _not surprised_ , because even they are at a distance. Even they find him so unimportant that they can leave him stranded on I-55 without a thought to the fact that he would be waiting for hours.

“Well, that’s that.” Colin makes note of the fact that Bradley puts the can in the back of Colin’s car. He knows it’s so that he will keep extra fuel in his trunk just in case of instances like these in the future. “You’re all done.” He pauses beside Colin, where he remains seated in the trunk, staring at his shoes. Bradley lets out a soft sigh, one that Colin knows very, very well, and then the car dips down when he sits beside him. He isn’t even surprised when he starts to cry.

~*~

Colin didn’t get off to a great start when he reached university. He was homesick and lonely, and too shy to successfully make friends on his own. So he did things alone, or with people he probably wouldn’t hang out with if he wasn’t so lonely. In his first two weeks, he was late for most of his classes because he decided to get stoned before them. Pot helped with most of his anxiety; he felt loose and easy and able to take on the world. A lot of people liked him when he was under its influence, because he smiled a lot and wasn’t as afraid of speaking to someone he didn’t know that well.

He liked to sit out on the quad, smoking with one or two other people out of a hookah bong. Professors walking on their way to class never seemed to notice the smell, or maybe they didn’t know it as being any different from the smell of hookah; it’s a sweet-smelling tobacco after all. One professor – one he had for a creative writing class later on in his college career – gave them a thumbs-up as she passed, as if she knew exactly what they were up to and couldn’t approve more.

He met Bradley officially at the end of his first week of classes. He knew they lived on the same floor in their dorm, but he hadn’t ever talked to him. He wasn’t able to, no matter how much he’d like to. There was something absolutely terrifying about him. He always seemed easygoing enough, blonde and bright, with a constant smile and one of those guffawing laughs that one could hear from half a mile away. Even with his door closed, Colin could hear him laughing. But no matter how much he wanted to be a part of that, to be the person _causing_ that laughter, he couldn’t. He didn’t think there was enough of him, enough _to_ him to make him interesting enough for Bradley to want, even as a friend.

The chemistry course he took that semester had over two hundred students in it. It was a general education course, so almost every student in the university had to take some version of it. The lecture hall was huge, which was one of the reasons Colin liked the class. He never held any particularly vast interest in chemistry, but he appreciated this chance to disappear. He could sneak into the back of the classroom and not be noticed by anyone. It was harder to do in English classes because they were smaller; more was expected of him. There were participation points and faces he recognized on the quad or in the dining hall, and he ended up much more anxious than he really needed to feel.

He found out completely by accident that Bradley was in that same chemistry course with him. It made sense; since so many students had to take the class, it was only bound statistically for one of the people that Colin actually knew to be in his class. Of course, he didn’t really expect for it to be someone he had such an unnerving infatuation with.

Bradley was the kind of person that always had a spare pencil, just in case someone in the class needed one. He tended to also make a point to sit toward the back of the lecture hall, having taken an extra copy of the test, just in case someone dodged into the classroom late and needed it, since asking for one from the professor or the TA when one was late generally meant that one would be in some sort of trouble – usually in the vein of failing the exam automatically. Bradley of course was the kind of person who hated the idea of someone not getting a chance to show they knew the material, just because they were a few minutes late arriving to class. It wasn’t that he was nerdy or even a teacher’s pet; he just seemed to have this instinctive urge to help people, even if he didn’t know them.

This was how he and Colin met – officially, anyway. Colin overslept from a marijuana-induced nap, and had to run from his dorm across the quad in some attempt to get to the class on time. He was only three minutes late, which he was impressed with himself for managing, and when he sagged down in the last row, trying to catch his breath, he didn’t even realize at first that the guy sitting next to him was Bradley – the boy from down the hall who shared a room with Eoin, who was the guy that yelled too much in the middle of the night, for whom Bradley seemed to be constantly apologizing. He didn’t realize it was him until Bradley was pushing a copy of the test onto his desk.

Colin flashed a smile at him, mouthing, “Thank you!” and went about patting his pockets, looking for the pencil he was sure he shoved into one of them along with his ID card on his way out. He was a little too distracted by Bradley’s profile – his strong nose and full, cherry-red lips and dark, curving eyelashes – to sufficiently look, and when Bradley held out a pencil in front of his nose, as if he sensed his scrutiny – which Colin thought he’d managed rather subtly, by the way – he took it with a surprised little huff, touching his shoulder in thanks again.

Colin finished his test first – not really because he knew the material any better than Bradley did; it was more because he had _no idea_ what any of the gibberish on the paper meant. He found that the best way to deal with not knowing the answers was to bluff his way through, show some sort of bravado, like that would somehow steer him in the right direction. Generally speaking, this didn’t work. But it did make him feel better.

He waited outside of the room for Bradley to exit, and when he did, he ran to catch up to him. “Thank you for saving my ass in there.”

Bradley paused, startled, and blinked at him, before flashing him a blinding smile. “Don’t mention it. You looked really flustered; I figured you could use a hand. You’re Colin, right?”

Colin stared at him for a long moment before realizing he had to actually answer that. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. I am. How did you know that?”

“Well, you live down the hall.” Bradley laughed lightly, hitching his backpack up on his shoulder. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes either; I noticed you right away at our first floor meeting.”

“Oh.” Colin blushed, cleared his throat. “Well, thank you. I’ve noticed you too, around and stuff. You’ve always seemed really cool.”

“You think?” He knocked their shoulders together, playfully, like they’d known each other forever. “Well, why don’t you come out with me tonight? There’s an old movie playing at the Normal Theater that I’d like to see, and it might be fun to go with a date.”

“A date?” Colin practically squeaked it out. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“You can say no, you know.”

“No! I mean – no, I don’t want to say no. That is, yes, I’d really like to go on a date with you.”

“Well, good! I’m glad to hear it. I’m headed to Schroeder for class, so I’ll pick you up at 6:30. I know the address!” Bradley winked, and was off. Colin just stood there, stunned, like a miracle had happened and he’d been there to witness it.

He didn’t give the pencil back, but he always made sure to use it in class after that so Bradley would see.

***

The university hosted a festival every fall. There were booths for each club and student organization on campus, a way to get involved with anything that could possibly interest someone, and all of the local restaurants, banks and businesses set up tables to promote interest in their products. There were free t-shirts, free pens, and free food galore, and Colin loved it.

So far, he had signed up for a Doctor Who fan club, a writing journal and the PRIDE group. He was very uncertain if he would actually make it to the meetings of any of these clubs. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any interest in them or that he didn’t _want_ to go. He just sometimes was so crippled by his own lack of self-confidence that he froze up in those situations. In high school, he once got as far as the door of the scholastic bowl team meeting before he noticed just how many people were inside the room; he then turned tail and ran home. When his mom asked how the meeting went over dinner, he told her that the club was cancelled due to lack of interest.

He was okay with everything though. He had a reusable grocery bag from one of the stands that was giving them out, and he had it stuffed with free t-shirts and highlighters and cups that changed colors when you put a cold drink in them. He’d also collected more chocolate and free food than he actually thought was possible to all exist in one place. His stomach actually felt a bit distended, and he didn’t think he was actually going to be able to eat dinner that night, which was unfortunate since he had plans to go out with Bradley.

But it was okay, because Bradley was with him right now, stuffing himself with an equally large amount of food. Bradley though seemed to be able to eat enough for three, and that was not something he and Colin had in common. Not to mention that Colin was a vegetarian; Bradley made sure to regularly make fun of him for that. (He knew he didn’t really mean it though, especially because when they went out to restaurants, Bradley always asked after the ingredients in the food, to make sure they were vegetarian-friendly for Colin. It was almost ridiculously romantic, and therefore embarrassing. He wished he could reciprocate in some way, but there was little he could think to do.)

They had only been dating for a couple of weeks but, as far as Colin’s limited experience with dating was telling him, it was going rather well. Bradley seemed to think he was funny, though he told him on their first date – the movie and then a walk through the soft-lit streets of Uptown Normal eating frozen yogurt from Chill Out – that he never knew if he should approach him because he seemed like he didn’t want anyone to talk to him. Colin thought maybe that’s what he had been going for but hadn’t liked the result of much.

They were on a much better level now, better at talking about anything, past the getting-to-know-each-other stage but not quite to the groping-each-other-constantly-and-always-wanting-to-make-out stage. Colin wanted very much to get to that stage, but Bradley seemed to be respecting him and the fact that he had never really done this before. He’d gone on one or two dates in high school, but he’d never gotten to this point with anybody, where he was starting to think of someone as his _significant other_ or his _boyfriend_.

“Do you want to get some cotton candy?” Bradley asked, still eating the half-melted ice cream he’d gotten from a booth a couple aisles back. “I think it might be our last stop and then we’ve been to every single booth here.” He wasn’t exaggerating. Even at the places that neither of them really cared about, they stopped to talk to the people at the table. Colin was sort of proud of them for that; they made at least one person smile at each one. Bradley had that kind of effect on people, it seemed.

“I honestly think I’m going to throw up,” Colin laughed, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand. It was the boldest he’d been so far, to be able to hold Bradley’s hand, and he knew how lame that was – to be eighteen years old and unable to find the courage to kiss his prospective boyfriend. He thought sometimes that if he was Bradley, he would have given up and moved on to someone else already.

“Aw, c’me on, Col! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Alright, alright.” He allowed himself to be pulled over to the cotton candy booth. Once there, Bradley asked for just one cotton candy, and they shared it. Colin popped a small piece into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. He hummed happily. “Well, at least cotton candy doesn’t really take up any room in my stomach, so it won’t be any fuller.”

“Positive thinking! One of the many things I like about you!”

Colin almost stopped in his tracks at that. His hand holding Bradley’s pulled him along after him. “You like a lot of things about me?”

“Well, obviously.” Bradley grinned at him, biting directly into the candy so that he didn’t have to let go of Colin’s hand. “You’re pretty much the coolest person I know, and I know a lot of really cool people.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Not in the slightest.” He did let go of his hand then, but only to peel off some of the candy and hold it to Colin’s mouth. He opened up for it, letting him press it in onto his tongue. “Why do you think I’m always hanging out in your room and begging to spend time with you? I have so much fun with you.”

Colin scuffed his shoe on the ground, bashful. “Well, thank you. I agree, you know. I have fun with you too. I’m _having_ fun with you.”

“Hey. Hey, Col, look.” He lifted his head. Bradley had cotton candy stuck to his face around his mouth, in the shape of a goatee. “Cotton candy beard!”

Colin wasn’t sure how to react to that at first, and all he could do was stare at him. A moment later, he was laughing, and the moment after that, he was reeling him in with a hand on the back of his neck to press their mouths together.

He figured there were worse first kisses than ones that tasted like cotton candy.

***

Bradley was a year ahead of Colin in university; when they met, Bradley was a sophomore, and Colin was just starting his freshman year. It never made much of a difference in their relationship. For the most part, Bradley wasn’t taking classes any harder than Colin’s and in some cases, they were sharing courses. That made everything very easy; it didn’t seem as much like they had a large space between them when it came to academia and the things they had to accomplish.

The university offered the option for students in their third and fourth years studying there to live off-campus, out of the dorms. Bradley didn’t take the option, even though Colin urged him to, especially when Eoin needed a roommate and asked Bradley to move with him into the small apartment he’d found close to campus. He said he wasn’t going to leave Colin behind to leave in a single in the dorms all by himself, so he didn’t. For Colin’s sophomore year, they shared a dorm room. Colin had been apprehensive about the idea (What if they broke up?), but Bradley was a perfect roommate, and, even though they only had twin beds, they slept curled up together at night in Bradley’s. (They always left Colin’s bed made though, just in case their RA noticed the suspicious lack of bedclothes and thought maybe they shouldn’t have been sharing a room.)

When Colin began his junior year, they rented a one-bedroom apartment together. It was small but it felt more cozy than cramped. There was an island counter in the kitchen, and that had been the one stipulation of any apartments they looked at, because Bradley wanted to be able to stand at their counter and cook dinner like a TV chef (which rarely happened, but Colin bought him a chef’s hat for when it did). They got lucky, because it was fully-furnished, utilities included in their rent, with a washer and dryer and a dishwasher. Colin loved it. It was their own miniature home. It made him think of life after university, which he, admittedly, tried not to do that much – no need to get his hopes up – and the domesticity made him feel warm on the inside.

His favorite days were Tuesdays. Bradley had a three-hour political science class on Monday afternoons and Colin had a three-hour English literature lecture Monday evenings; they had worked it out so they had Tuesdays free from classes. It meant they had slightly more homework to do those days, but that was part of the reason Colin liked them so much. They sat together on opposite ends of the couch with their books and papers and computers spread out around them. Colin liked to sit with his feet in Bradley’s lap, and his heart always gave a little thrill that Bradley always allowed it. He even seemed to enjoy it, because while he read, the book propped up with his right hand on the armrest, he used his left to rub Colin’s ankles, kneading his thumb against his anklebones.

It usually left Colin feeling loose-limbed and lazy, and his books ended up in a pile on the floor beside him, his head tilted against the back of the couch. He didn’t always finish his homework, but he did get to watch Bradley work, his nose scrunched in concentration as he poured over his books. Bradley, who was so often loud and boisterous, was the most studious person Colin knew, and he felt like he was the only person who got to see that. It made him feel incredibly special, like he was witnessing a genius at work. And maybe he was. Bradley wanted to change the word, to make a difference, and there was nothing that could possibly stop him, not with how devoted he was to it. He would go to law school and hopefully go into politics, and Colin would follow him anywhere; that was the plan for Colin, anyway. He had nothing more that he wanted to do than follow Bradley everywhere.

He waited patiently for him to finish, sitting quietly, their soft silence filling the room. It never felt strained or uncomfortable; Colin wasn’t even bored to be doing nothing, now that he was done with his homework. He thought about going to make dinner so Bradley had something to eat once he was done, but he figured they could order in later instead.

Bradley finally sighed and set aside his book, rubbing his eyes to alleviate some of the discomfort from holding something so close to his face for so long. Colin mentioned from time to time that he would do well to get himself glasses, but Bradley usually ignored the suggestion. Now that he was done though, he tugged on Colin’s ankle, and he went to him easily, shifting to fold himself up against his side and kiss his neck. “Done?” he asked needlessly, since he already knew the answer.

“I am,” he hums and tips his head to press their mouths together, his fingertips sliding along his face to cup his jaw. He slides his tongue against Colin’s lips, and he parts them, his hand curling in Bradley’s shirt as he laps his way into his mouth, a slow, deep kiss that left him feeling like jelly down to his toes. “I love how you watch me work.”

Colin smiled sheepishly. “You’re beautiful. How can anyone do anything but just _look_ at you?”

“You sap.”

“Don’t hate.” He kissed him again, curling his hand around the back of his head so he couldn’t pull away until he was good and ready. “Besides, if I wasn’t a sap, you would never have cupcakes on your birthday and I wouldn’t give you a full-body massage on our week-a-versary.”

“You don’t really keep track of our week-a-versary,” Bradley scoffed. “Seriously.”

“Why _else_ did you think I give you a massage every Thursday night, hm?”

“I figured you were just trying to get me in the mood, since you don’t have class on Fridays and you’re a total horndog.”

“That is only a bonus result of the massage, _not_ my reason for it.”

“Fair enough. Well, since I do appreciate your massages, I retract my accusatory statement about you being a sap.”

“Thank you. What’s say we get dinner, my love?”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

***

Colin leaned back against Bradley, sinking deeper into the warm water and humming softly. “Why don’t we take baths more often?” The bubbles were up to his neck, and the water was warm, like being coated in hot tea. He didn’t think there was anything quite so wonderful as bath time with his boyfriend, who liked to hold him close against his chest and kiss his neck.

Music played quietly from the iHome they left plugged in on the sink. It was Bradley’s “Quiet Time with Colin” playlist. It was sweet that he made it, but Colin always poked fun at the fact that the songs never changed, and rarely were any added. Every once in a while, he found a new one on the list, a song they recently heard on the radio that Colin had hummed along to, or the theme of some film they saw together that made Colin cry. He was never sure what the criteria was for a song to make it onto the playlist, but he had a feeling that if Colin had any kind of emotional reaction to it, there was a chance he would hear it again later.

“They take up too much time?” Bradley suggested, wetting a washcloth and flattening it over his hand. He placed it against Colin’s stomach, rubbing it in light circles over his skin. The attention made him arch up into his touch, whining softly. “I love when you do that.”

“I gathered that from the fact that you _keep doing it_ ,” he complained half-heartedly, tilting his head back to bite at his neck. It was embarrassing, how easily Bradley could turn him on, how very little it took for him to successfully have Colin panting for it. What was worse was how very aware of it Bradley was, the mischief that seemed to appear in his eyes whenever he was causing Colin any especial amount of discomfort. “I really hate that you know how much I like it.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t. It just makes me want to make you feel good, because I know it makes you feel good.”

“It doesn’t _just_ make me feel good, Bradley,” he murmured, his face heating up, especially because Bradley _knew_ that; that was why he did it. To be honest, the touches made him tingle all the way down to his toes, and he couldn’t always contain himself, couldn’t always keep himself from demanding moremore _more_ , and he hated how desperate and vulnerable it made him for that kind of knowledge to be in Bradley’s hands. It was a far cry from how closed-off and tense physical affection made him feel toward the beginning of their relationship. It was a testament to just how much Bradley had opened him up, made him more comfortable with himself.

Bradley never took advantage of it though, never embarrassed him or made him feel bad. It was one of the infuriating and wonderful things about him; he was kind, without even trying. He only seemed to want to make Colin happy, in whatever situation. Right now, he abandoned the washcloth to rub his hand over Colin’s cock, pressing his mouth against his shoulder. “I know that, baby.” His voice was husky, low and affectionate. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Colin covered his hand, spreading his legs a little in invitation for him to move his hand back. When he did, it was to rub two fingers lightly against his entrance, and he whimpered quietly, mouthing at Bradley’s neck. “Oh. Oh, please, please. I just want you.”

“I know, baby,” Bradley said quietly, tipping his head down to press their mouths together firmly, sliding his fingers inside of him. It helped that they had made love earlier that morning, after Bradley had woken him up with soft kisses against the back of his thighs; he was still open and ready for him. He fucked him slowly, pressing his fingers deep into him and curling them tightly, and Colin couldn’t help the soft, needy noises he made in response. Bradley always knew just how to touch him; there was no one quite so diligent and thorough about learning Colin’s body.

He slid his hand around his cock, pumping slowly in time with Bradley’s movements, kissing him all the while, their tongues sliding lazily together. When he came, it was softly, like a breeze coasting over him in the early morning. When he could force himself to move, he murmured to Bradley that he should drain the water, which he did, and they pulled themselves from the tub.

Colin pushed Bradley up against the sink, dropping to his knees, and slid his mouth over his cock, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking in deep. He loved the way Bradley’s thighs shook and his fingers curled into his hair, like he was completely overwhelmed by the attention, and he let him gently guide his mouth, his hips pumping slowly forward, just as easy and slow as their whole morning had been. They were in no hurry today. Saturdays were _their_ day. They didn’t see anyone else; they spent the whole twenty-four hour period locked inside their apartment, mostly in their bed, and – sometimes – in their bathtub, showing each other just how happy they were to have each other in their lives.

At times like this, with Bradley crying out softly as he came, and the way he gently petted his hair down, apologetically, for pulling it too hard, Colin felt incredibly blessed. When they recovered somewhat, with their bodies pressed close together and soft kisses being exchanged, they retreated back to their bed, curled up under the sheets and slept with their hands curled together.

When Colin woke up a few hours later, Bradley was watching him. “You know, when I see you like this, I think about the fact that someday I’m going to marry you,” he says quietly. “And whatever else is wrong in my life or in the world – it all seems okay then.”

Colin’s throat shut tight at those words, and he smiled sadly, nosing in at Bradley’s neck and saying nothing.

***

Bradley didn’t have the best childhood. He didn’t talk about it very often; it wasn’t something that he wanted to relive. Colin only knew vaguely that Bradley didn’t talk to his father; he didn’t know anything else about the situation at all. He found out all in one day, when they had been living together in their shared apartment for a few months. They had had Bradley’s white sheets on their bed for that entire length of time. Colin had a late Wednesday, and he was lying in bed, having slept in, when he realized how much he disliked the idea of white sheets. They were so plain, so lacking in color, both literally and metaphorically.

So he got up and got dressed and rode his bike the two miles to Target, to see what kinds of linens they had to offer. He found a perfect set – the most striking blue that he had ever seen, and one he knew that Bradley would like. It was the color of Easter eggs or chlorinated water, and he bought it without a second thought, excited to get home and change the sheets.

He was just spreading out the last wrinkles in the fabric when Bradley came home. “Hi, love,” he greeted him at the door with a kiss. “I want your opinion on something; come here.” He took his hand and drew him back to the bedroom. “So I figured we should change up our room. I thought maybe we could have a theme, sort of blues and creams. We could always keep everything for when we live together once we graduate too, maybe find a place we can paint the walls and…” He trails off, catching the expression on Bradley’s face. “Oh. You don’t like them.”

“It’s not that,” Bradley said quietly. “I like the color, and the idea. I would actually really love that color scheme in the living room, so maybe when we get a more permanent place, we could do something like that there. I just really, really prefer to have white sheets on the bed.”

“But white is so _boring_!” Colin frowned, exasperated. “I mean – there’s no personality. It’s so plain, and it’s so hard to accent it with anything because _everything_ goes with it. It just doesn’t leave much room to work with decorating-wise.”

“I know,” Bradley interrupted gently. He licked his lips, hesitating.”Can I explain something to you, about my dad?”

Colin went still, because no conversation they’d ever had began with that. He perched on the edge of the bed, nodding carefully, studying his face. “Sure. Yeah, of course.” He took his hands, pulling him over to the bed to sit beside him. “You can talk to me about anything.”

Bradley squeezed his hands back, bringing them to his lips to press kisses to his knuckles. “When I was younger, my dad hit my mom. I mean, he hit me too, sometimes, but mostly if I was just in his way. He didn’t tend to notice me otherwise, which was fine, because obviously nobody wants to be hurt by someone, you know?” He smiled a little wanly, looking out toward the window. “He made my mom bleed – a lot. And obviously, she never went to the hospital or anything; she just always had gauze and antiseptic and things like that around the house all the time.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “My dad was very specific about the sheets.”

Colin chewed at his lip, watching his face. He didn’t want to push this conversation, but he wanted to understand too. He needed Bradley to know he could go at his own pace, take as long as he liked, but that he was also listening and absorbing what he was saying; it was such a fine line. “What specifically about the sheets?” he encourages him gently.

“They couldn’t be white,” he says. “I don’t know why; I’ve never known why. My mother had one set of white sheets, and they were her _favorites_ ; they were crisp and soft and always smelled good, no matter how long it had been since they were last washed. She just loved them, and so did I. But my dad hated them. When I was fourteen, he finally shredded them. Before that, they were always a point of contention in my house; if he saw them, he flew into these… _rages_. He broke whatever was in his way – furniture, lamps, my mother, me, anything. It was just one of the reasons that he would get angry, but it was the worst one. Sometimes, now, when I have white sheets on my bed, I feel like I’ve beaten him, in some small way. It might not be significant. He still hurt my mom, and he still hurt me, and it was still incredibly difficult to get over – and sometimes I’m still not over it – but this is my victory.”

The room was quiet for a long while, and Colin waited patiently, unsure what else he could do. He didn’t know if the conversation was over; he’d never had a conversation like this before. He wanted more than anything to make it better for Bradley, to fix all the hurts inside of him (enough that he later went to the Student Services Building to get pamphlets on helping friends deal with physical abuse). After a while, he leaned in to kiss him, quietly. “We can keep the white sheets,” he said softly. “As long as you let me do whatever I’d like to the walls.”

Bradley cupped his chin, drew him in to press their mouths together more firmly, licking his way slowly into his mouth, humming and laying him back, curling up close against his side. “We’ll put the blue sheets in a guest bedroom someday,” he commented after a while, rubbing Colin’s tummy. “With cream walls.”

Colin smiled, running his fingers through Bradley’s hair, scratching a little behind his ears like he knew he liked. He was rewarded with a little purr of pleasure from his throat. “That sounds perfect, love.”

~*~

“I’ve missed you,” Colin says quietly, sniffling and leaning in against Bradley’s shoulder. He hates himself for succumbing to this. He hates how easily he can just collapse into himself whenever Bradley appears in his life again. He’s been crying for fifteen minutes and Bradley – perfect, beautiful, wonderful Bradley – has said nothing, has only sat beside him and held him and rubbed his back while he whimpered against his shoulder.

“You know I’ve missed you,” Bradley says in response, pushing his hair back from his face. “Your hair is getting so long. You need a haircut.”

“You used to like it when it was long,” Colin laughs softly, wiping at his wet cheek with his thumb. “You said you liked the way it curled around my ears.”

“I like your ears too though,” Bradley points out. “I always liked the way they looked when your hair was cropped short, how your ears smiled when the rest of you did.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I probably am. That doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re beautiful – ears and all.” He pauses, petting his hair absently. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Colin. I really hope you know that.”

“I know that,” he echoes quietly, a soft admission that he didn’t ever want to see the light of day; even in his own mind, he pressed that back, pretended it wasn’t true, because as soon as he admitted that he _knew_ Bradley loved him, how was he supposed to move on from him? “Do you know where I was – that I was coming back to school from?”

“No.” There’s a frown in Bradley’s voice. Frowning is so unsuited to Bradley that the very act of doing it changes everything about how he does everything else – speaking, walking, seeing. It’s kind of like it filters the world for him, in the worst possible way. “It didn’t even occur to me to wonder why you weren’t down there. You used to drive up north any time you had a free day and the museums in the city had free day passes. I take it that’s not where you were today?”

Colin considers not telling him. He could be setting himself up for disappointment here. He could break his own heart again by doing this. But it’s not as if it hasn’t occurred to him to tell him before. If he had known how to get a hold of him, he probably would have called already. (That’s a lie, and he knows it in his head but determinedly thinks it anyway.) “I had an interview at DePaul,” he finally confesses. “With the director of the English graduate program. I applied in the fall, and they wanted to meet me before they accepted me, especially since I’m behind a semester with my classes.”

Bradley waits patiently for a moment for him to continue, but the apprehension has wound his muscles tight; Colin can feel it through to his fingertips. When he doesn’t speak, he blurts out an “ _And_?”

“Well, it’s all pending my graduation.” He shrugs it off, unwilling to get his hopes up here, unwilling to be anything more than casual in the face of Bradley’s excitement. “But it looks good, like I might get a position at the school. It’s still a while off, and I know it doesn’t mean anything, really, except that we’ll possibly be going to school together, but that’s something, right? All on its own, that’s something.”

“It really, really is.” If he knows Bradley as well as he thinks he knows Bradley, he’s about ready to leap out of the car and do a jig on the gravel. A small, insecure part of him tells him that he’s really just imagining that excitement, that Bradley really has no reason to _be_ that excited for Colin to come to DePaul. But he knows that he’s just kidding himself, if he thinks that Bradley wouldn’t care about something like that, especially with what he just said. He just told him he _still loves him_. After all this time, and everything that Colin dragged him through, Bradley still loves him. And that has to make it all worth something. “Colin, that is so great, though. Just – I knew they’d like you at DePaul. You’re perfect for it. You’re going to fit right in. All these little people who live down here in McClean County – you’re too much for them. You’re too bright, you know that?”

“Bright?”

“Bright,” he agrees. “Bright like a star. It’s how I knew that I would never, ever have to be without you, unless you decided to be without me – like you did – because I knew no matter how far apart we were, or how much time we had to spend without each other, I would find my way back to you because you _shine_ , Colin. You shine without even meaning to. You light me up – light my life up – in ways you can’t even imagine.” He huffs out a laugh. “I know I’m being soppy and ridiculous; I’m not trying to be. I just wish I could make you understand how my world has come to center so fully on you. Even this past year, after we broke up, I was working my hardest at everything that came my way at school, because I knew that if I made you proud, it would all be worth it, even if you weren’t really speaking to me, even if I hadn’t been able to talk to you in months. As far away as you’ve been from me, Colin, you have been my lighthouse.”

~*~

“Colin, Colin, Colin!” Bradley burst through the door, dropping his bag by the door and toeing off his shoes almost absently, like he was almost too excited to pause to do this simple task. He had the mail in his hands, one pile held separately from one business-sized envelope. He dropped onto the couch next to him, his smile incredibly wide and unbridled. “I have such good news.”

Colin closed his book and pushed it onto the coffee table, grinning back at him. “You look like you have good news. Does it have something to do with that envelope that you’re practically strangling?”

“It’s from DePaul!” He blurted out, almost before Colin finished speaking. “It’s the big envelope, Colin. I haven’t even opened it yet, but it’s the big envelope.”

“Well, don’t just sit there; open it.” Colin laughed, grabbing it out of his hands and ripping the perforation off the back of it. “We both knew you were going to get in, you know.”

Bradley sat there tensely beside him, more excited than he could possibly contain. He ended up hopping to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the couch as Colin pulled the papers out.

He cleared his throat to read it out loud: “Dear Mr. James: In light of your application and qualifications, we are pleased to congratulate you on your admission to the Law School of DePaul University.” He grinned up at him. “Well, that sounds promising, doesn’t it!”

“Oh, my god.” Bradley stared at him for a second, then surged in to kiss him firmly, his hands cupped around his face as if he was the one who made this all happen. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I’m going to DePaul. I got into DePaul. _Colin_! I’m going to DePaul!”

“Yes, yes, I get it, I get it!” Colin laughed, placing the envelope and letter with reverence on the coffee table and standing up to embrace him. “In half a year, you will be starting law school and a few years after that, you will be the world’s most brilliant constitutional lawyer, changing the country one law at a time!”

“God, I hope so.” He squeezed him tightly. “I don’t even know what to do with myself right now. God.” He picked Colin up, swung him around. “Thank you so much, Colin. Thank you for supporting me, thank you for being here with me for it all, and thank you for just – god, I love you so much. Things are going to be so amazing.”

The words made something go very still inside of Colin’s chest, and he slid down to rest his feet on the floor, resting his hands on Bradley’s shoulders. “So… what about us? What do we do, now that you’re going to be three hours away at law school?”

Bradley looked at him steadily for a moment, studying his face. “Why do we have to do anything different?” he asked carefully, resting their foreheads together lightly. “We still love each other. Three hours isn’t that much of a distance.”

“It’s far enough.” Colin sounded panicked, even to his own ears. “I mean, we live together. We see each other every day. We spend every waking – and usually sleeping – second together. How are we going to go from that to once or twice a month without falling apart?”

“We’ll just have to work at it,” Bradley suggested gently. “It has never been a part of my plans to go away to law school and lose you, Colin. That would make it completely not worth it for me, and you know that. We’re meant to be together. We always have been, from the day you sat next to me and I gave you a pencil.”

Colin shook his head. “Don’t try to distract me by being sweet,” he murmured, curling his arms tight around him and pressing his nose to his neck. “I don’t know how to be without you. I don’t know who I _am_ without you. When you go, there’ll be nothing left of me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Colin,” he pulled back, cupped his face, drawing him up to press their mouths together. “Do not talk like that. You’ll be fine. You’ll be wonderful. You’re going to have a great senior year, with lots of friends and lots of schoolwork, and when you get into DePaul for the writing masters’ program, we’ll be right there together again, sharing a little studio apartment and driving each other crazy and maybe we’ll have a cat.” He seemed to count it as a victory when Colin let out a tearful, hysterical little laugh. “This is not going to be the end of us, Colin Morgan. I promise you that.”

“How can you promise me that?” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye, knowing that this was all just so very ridiculous. Bradley just got the best news of his college career. They should have been out celebrating. Colin should have been dragging him off to dinner and then the bars to ply him with drinks and convince other people to ply him with drinks so that he’d return sated and happy and flush-faced like a child. But not too much like a child because then Colin would drag him back to their apartment, back into their bed for a night of gloriously celebratory love-making. Colin would do whatever Bradley wanted in bed, as long as it made him feel good and let him know that Colin believed in him. No matter what he wanted to do, or ended up doing, or ended up going, Colin believed in him.

“I don’t know,” Bradley admitted quietly, his hands big against Colin’s back. “But I’m not going to give you up, Colin Morgan. You’re my favorite person. You have been since that first week I met you; I told you that then. You’re the coolest person I know.”

“I just want to be with you,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to go away.”

“I won’t go far, I promise. This is not going to be the end of us.”

~*~

It was though – the end of them. Colin broke up with him at the end of the summer. It isn’t that he wanted to; there was nothing he wanted less. But he couldn’t imagine being with Bradley but not being able to have him as much and as often as he wanted. He couldn’t imagine being the distraction that kept Bradley from excelling at law school like they both knew he could and would.

Sometimes, he still has anxious little dreams that are more like nightmares: Bradley off to Washington, D.C. to work as a Supreme Court lawyer, Bradley meeting an intelligent, handsome lawyer that has the same life goals he does, Bradley’s wedding to that same intelligent, handsome lawyer, their life with kids and the cat Bradley promised Colin – and ultimately, Bradley moving on with his life and forgetting all about Colin.

He knows they aren’t fair thoughts. It’s not as if Bradley broke up with him and moved away. Colin sat him down the night before his train was meant to take him to Chicago, and with a hand tight in the fabric of his shirt, told him that when he left the next day, they would officially not be a couple anymore. Bradley – sweet, sensitive Bradley – looked at him like a puppy he’d just left on the side of the road but nodded very solemnly.

They kissed goodbye the next morning on the train platform and that was the end of them.

“You told me you’d keep in touch,” Bradley comments lightly, like he’s still joking. Colin knows that as his favorite defense mechanism. Bradley never knows what to do in these kinds of situations; he doesn’t know how to handle his own feelings, which is strange, since he’s eerily talented at taking care of the feelings of others. “Why didn’t you keep that promise?”

“I thought you’d be better off.” Colin nuzzles at his neck, giving into the feelings that he knows he probably should be pushing away about now. “Studying and doing your work and getting ready to change the world. I didn’t want to be your distraction.”

“You were anyway, you know,” Bradley traces his fingers over his jaw. “You dumped me right as school started. I was a mess. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through my first year. I didn’t know anybody; I didn’t have anyone to lean on in my breakup. I just sat in my apartment and I cried and I missed you and I called you and you never once picked up.”

“I thought if I did that, it would only make things harder. I wanted things to be easy. I wanted it to be easy for both of us. Do you really think us staying together this year would have been easier?”

“No, I don’t think that. But it would have been happier. Because I would have been able to see you. I would have talked to you every day. I would have known you were down here, finishing you degree, so that you could come and join me in the city and we could start living our life together. Do you know how much easier this year would have been if I’d known that?”

Colin laughs, bitterly. “Funnily enough, I couldn’t handle as many classes when you weren’t here, so now I have to take an extra semester to finish my degree. How ironic is that? I wanted you to not be a distraction and you were anyway. I could hate you for that.”

“You could,” Bradley agrees. “But you don’t. I don’t think so anyway. I don’t hate you, even though I really, really wanted to. You broke my heart, you know.”

“I know,” Colin whispers. “I broke my heart too.”

They were quiet for a long while. The sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon, and the cars passing increasingly had their headlights on. Colin was exhausted and sunburned and just wanted to go home, and he hated it because he wanted to take Bradley with him.

“You know,” he starts quietly, taking a deep breath and expelling it through his nose. “Whenever something bad happens, I want to call you, see you. I want you to make everything better, because I know you can. You’ve always made everything better, no matter what the situation was. And when no one came today, when no one even returned my calls, the only person I wanted was you. And here you are – fixing everything again. If I hadn’t deleted your number from my phone so I wouldn’t give in and call you, you would’ve been the first person I would’ve called.”

“I would’ve come.”

“I know. I mean, you did come, but I know you would have anyway, because that’s how you are. That’s how you’ve always been to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He smiled with half his mouth. “Remember that time when I was so angry because I got an F on that paper, and I told you I hated you because I was ranting about it and you told me it was no big deal?” Bradley makes an affirming noise in your throat. “I know I made you cry then, even though you didn’t do it in front of me, and I’m sorry. I never said I was sorry for that, even when you came home with cheese fries and milkshakes to make me feel better. So I’m sorry. I love you; I should never, ever tell you I hate you because there is no one I love more than you.”

Bradley squeezes him close, then turns to pick Colin’s phone up from the bottom of the trunk. He dials a number on it, bringing it to his ear. “Hi, I’d like to call a tow truck. Yes. I’m about five miles north of the Pontiac exit on I-55. To Normal. Yes. Yes, that’s fine, thank you.” He gives the address of Colin’s apartment and a description of his car, then slides the phone shut and tosses it back into the trunk. “Alright, come on. Get your things.”

Colin blinks at him, confused, as they wiggle out of the trunk together. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going home, babe.” Bradley’s face twitches in a wink at the easy way he’s fallen back into the pet name. “Come on. I’ll drive; a tow truck will be here soon to pick up your car and bring it back. And I’ll pay for it, so don’t worry about that. You look exhausted; we need to get you some food and to bed, and I’m not letting you drive there; it’d pretty much make it my responsibility if you ended up crashing your car.”

Colin wants to protest. He wants to tell Bradley that he doesn’t have to do this. He wants to save him the trouble of driving all the way to Bloomington-Normal to drop him off. But mostly, he just wants to sleep. He’s so, so tired, and so very far away from anything remotely bed-like. He allows Bradley to drag him to the car and tuck him into the front seat. Almost immediately, once Bradley pulls back out onto the road, he’s asleep, his hand tucked tight into Bradley’s against the armrest, their fingers laced.

***

Colin isn’t sure how he ended up in his bed, but when he wakes up, it’s dark outside the window. The clock on his bedside table says that it’s just after 3:00 in the morning, and from the head of blonde hair peeking out from under the blankets, it’s safe to assume that Bradley has stayed the night and decided to share his bed. He’s groggy and stiff, and his neck hurts from the sunburn. He crawls out of bed and pads into the kitchen, downing a glass of water at the sink. He considers moving to the couch to sleep, for the sake of propriety or something, but he just wants to be in his bed, more than anything – the bed he used to share with Bradley, who is currently sleeping there.

So that’s what he does. He crawls back into bed, presses his lips to Bradley’s neck, and curls up around him, burying his face into his shirt, right between his shoulder blades. He’s asleep again in minutes.

When he wakes, he’s alone, and he tries very hard to not be surprised. He doesn’t want to be surprised. People are fairly good these days at showing him how little he means to them. He curls up into a tight ball, trembling. There is no reason to cry. It’s not as if they were a couple. It’s not as if anyone important is gone.

“Good morning, sunshine!” He lifts his head, and there he is, with a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. “I didn’t know which kind of morning it was – a coffee morning or an orange juice morning, so I brought both. I’ll drink whichever you don’t want.”

“Coffee,” Colin decides, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. He takes the warm cup from Bradley, sliding his fingers through the handle and taking a long draught of it, not caring that it’s burning his tongue. He feels gloriously happy – well-rested, drinking hot coffee, and even better, Bradley is sitting next to him, just as beautiful as always. He stares at him for a long time, unsure what to say. “You’re still here,” is what he settles on.

“I couldn’t leave, to be honest.” Bradley smiles sadly at him, sipping his juice. “I woke up and saw you there; it was too much like how it used to be. I didn’t know how I could possibly walk away from this again.” He sighs softly, looking down at his hands. “I want to make this work, Colin. I know you had your reasons for ending things. I understand them, even if I don’t agree with them. But if you’re willing to work with me here, we could – we could really make this work. We could make _plans_.”

Colin expected this. And he’s somehow much more serene about the conversation than he expected he would be. He doesn’t know how to answer. He knows what he wants and he knows what’s possible, and he’s not sure how to reconcile the two things. He licks his lips, swallows hard. “Will you stay here with me?” he asks quietly.

Bradley smiles sadly, shakes his head, and Colin’s stomach drops out of him. “I really, really wish I could, baby. I have classes tomorrow, so I’m going to have to leave tonight. But – I’ll come back next weekend, okay? It’s Labor Day; we’ll be able to spend three days together. And we’ll work things out. We’ll make it all work.”

Colin looks at him for a long time. Bradley doesn’t lie. Bradley has never lied, as long as he’s known him. He told him the truth when he was a sophomore and he got that really terrible haircut, and when one of the pieces he wanted to submit to a literary magazine wasn’t very good. He isn’t a cruel person, but he is an unyielding believer in honesty. And he’s being honest with him now; that’s all he can ever want or expect from him. “Do you really think we can do that?”

“Well, yes, of course.” Bradley leans in to kiss his cheek, smiles softly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And of course that’s the truth. “Are we making plans right now?”

Bradley grins, touches his leg. “I believe we are.”


End file.
